


Zen and the Art of Elevator Sex

by myoldsupernaturalaccount



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Elevator Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myoldsupernaturalaccount/pseuds/myoldsupernaturalaccount
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith and Sam Wesson meet in the elevator.  Sam infuriates Dean.  Naturally, sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zen and the Art of Elevator Sex

“No, Jenkins, I'll be— yeah, I'm on my way up right n— no, really, I'm coming, just, hang on, I have another call. Hello?” Dean Smith babbled into his Blackberry, squeezing it between his cheek and shoulder to press the appropriate elevator button. His eyes darted to the side to notice a very tall, very built man standing just a little too close, given that the elevator was empty apart from the two of them. “Hold on a second, will you, Williams?” he said, and pressed the mute button.

“Can I help you?” he asked shortly.

The man held out a hand. “Sam Wesson, IT. You're Mr. Smith, right?”

Dean took the offered hand cautiously and shook it firmly. “Yes, Dean Smith.” He tried to ignore the heat that seeped through the man's palm – rougher than he would expect from a cubicle worker – and focus on pressing the close door button.

“Nice phone,” Sam said, gesturing at the Blackberry. “Is that a Curve?”

“A what?” Dean snapped, distracted by the way Sam's clothes fit him so perfectly.

“A Curve. It's a kind of Blackberry,” Sam said casually, sticking a hand in his pocket. It pulled his khakis even tighter across his ass than they had already been and dear God if Dean weren't straight he would want to hit that harder than anything. The image of Sam bent over, that delicious ass spread open and fucked raw, appeared in his mind unbidden, and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah, it is, I think,” Dean ground out. “Williams, I'm gonna have to call you back,” he said, and shoved his phone back in his pants pocket. “Is there something you want?” he asked peevishly.

Sam shrugged. “Just trying to be friendly. I've seen you around a bit, figured I'd introduce myself.” He was way too close, his breath gently caressing Dean's neck.

“I'm not gay,” Dean said shortly, and much to his chagrin, Sam chuckled, glancing up and down his body. Dean's cheeks heated and he licked his lips self-consciously.

“Neither am I,” Sam said, and hit the emergency stop. For some reason that pissed Dean off more than anything else this frustrating man had done so far, and he crowded him into a corner.

“I'm not gay,” he repeated, his voice a low growl, hands planted firmly on either side of Sam's smirking face.

“Uh huh,” Sam muttered, and kissed him. Dean bit at his lip and grabbed his shoulder, shoving him against the wall.

“I'm not!” he continued to insist. “Stop saying those things!”

“I'm not saying anything,” Sam said with a grin, and leaned forward to kiss Dean again. “And if you want me to shut up...make me,” he teased, licking along Dean's bottom lip. Dean growled and spun Sam around, slamming him face-first into the wall, and shoved Sam's pants and boxers down to his ankles. He unzipped his own fly and pulled out his cock – half hard just from their two rough kisses – and stroked it a few times, flicking his thumb over the head and grunting with pleasure from the sensation.

“You are really fucking infuriating,” Dean ground out, spitting on his hand and rubbing the saliva over his cock, pressing it right up against Sam's tight, pink hole. “Gonna fuck that out of you.”

Sam moaned and pushed back against Dean. “Do it then,” he hissed. “Stop talking and do it.”

It was slow going, working Sam open as he went, pushing the blunt head of his cock into that ridiculously tight hole. He couldn't imagine what it must feel like to the other man, being split open, and it made him harder just thinking about it. His hands were bruising on Sam's hips, digging in just above the perfectly defined pelvic bone and he bit at the nape of Sam's neck, relishing in the yelp it wrung from him. Dean forced his dick the rest of the way in, not bothering to stifle his moans. He began to thrust slowly in and out, the drag and pull of skin on skin delicious and burning and it was all he could do to keep from just pounding away at that perfect fucking ass.

Sam's incessant moans were what finally did it for him, and he gave up trying to be nice, snapping his hips back and forth, fucking Sam into the wall.

“God, you're so tight,” he mumbled nearly incoherently, fucking into him harder and harder. He noticed belatedly that one of Sam's hands was between his own legs, jacking his cock, and he heard Sam shout out and saw come drip to the ground and pounded faster until he came too, spilling inside Sam with a stutter of his hips.

Dean pulled out mere moments later, staggering back and falling against the opposite wall of the elevator. He grabbed the handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped himself off, tucked his dick back into his boxers, and zipped his fly. He hit the button that would set the elevator moving again and stared resolutely at the door, hands back in his pockets to hide their shaking.

“This never happened,” he said stiffly, ignoring the sounds of Sam setting himself to rights. He couldn't, however, ignore the deep laugh that filled the elevator, followed by the words that would haunt him for the rest of the month.

“Yes, yes it did.”


End file.
